This is the book that the book club of my local Episcopal church read. Some weeks I didn’t really read the lessons in time for the discussions, but I showed up for the virtual meetings. They’re not really my age peers, and Episcopalians are kinda sleepy, but it was ok. I tend to isolate and read books, so listening to people I know talk about how we over-intellectualize was nice.

I didn’t want to do my dad’s evangelical Bible study, which I found less good; it’s a little hard to verbalize. So I told him I was reading a book for my church book club.... My dad puts the “fun” in fundamentalist; I can be part of any church I want as long as it’s Christian, by which he means “like me”. I think if after COVID he wanted to sit through a Christ Church (Episcopal) service it would go ok; he’s sorta condescending towards everything catholic and likes explaining how it is both similar and different to the true blue biblical stuff, but he doesn’t throw a hissy fit, he just explains that he could if he really wanted to, and my what a good boy he is. But I had to stop going to the youth (maybe half of them were young, and they played Christian pop music) angst-y liberal Methodist church I used to go to, because if dad had showed up and heard them talk—‘loose-y goose-y’, not ‘solid’—he would have thrown a fit. And I guess I’ve caused him enough grief in my life that, at this stage in my life, I don’t have to increase his sin.... so he asked about the book and of course I can’t give him the title, so I just got really vague. “It’s a book of readings.” “Lies I have not told, and of the truth all I could.” John Tolkien

Mother Lisa was really funny. She asked me something about my dad, and I tried to explain a little bit, but they’re just so sleepy, you know. Not literal—

Well, why would he throw a pencil. I don’t get it.
It’s a Downfall parody. He just has to throw a pencil.
But I don’t see how that helps him out in the long run.
It’s his thing.
Yeah, I don’t understand all that youth, all that, ah.... zzzz....
Are you.... Are you asleep?
Zzz....

I told my mom about the term for Buddhist Jews; I forget how you write it out, I think it’s like JuBus—she thought that was wonderful and named at least as many as were given as examples in the book, probably more, although she’d find the idea of talking with a group that takes the Bible as Scripture just as hilarious, you know.

They’re not married anymore.

I love my sleepy friends, though. (I’m not really an angst person anymore, anyway.) I don’t really have to do much for them, since we sorta agree, headspace-wise, and it’s not like I’ve been called on to emote for them to show them how.... I could sing them a song! It starts with forever, and it ends, with a touch, and I know that you’re clever, and I don’t ask for—hey hey, what? You’re shutting me down. You’re shutting me down, awww.... Hahaha, even I don’t listen to Ellie Goulding anymore, unless I’m in the grocery store, maybe they’ll play “Lights” or something. But I’m not the youngest generation anymore, which means I have to grow up, and part of growing up is cultivating a certain obedience to my elders, even if they are older than I am.

OrthodoxTalks guy: Yes! Cultivating obedience will get you—what’s that. He’s obeying the liberals. Ok, that’s not as good.

But they prayed for my dad when he cut his eye and he healed, so I kinda transferred that parental obedience to them, and I try not to nod off as they drone on about our freedom to learn from other religions.

I say you gotta get in the gap between the north and the south, the east and the west....

(Fill me up and pour me out, therein lies the doubt. We had the same feelings, at opposite times. Feist)

Contents:

Encountering the neighbor --
Viewing home anew --
Redrawing our maps --
Unpacking our belongings --
Stepping across the line --
Finding fellow travelers --
Repairing our shared world.